The Good The Bad & The Still Moderately Attractive
by demondreaming
Summary: Kid Victorious is the fastest hand in the West. But even she's unprepared for the situation that awaits her in the quiet town of Hollygulch. Will she be able to save the day, and the town, from certain destruction, and find love in the mix? Western AU.
1. Kid Victorious

****Disclaimer: Victorious is not owned by me, despite my daddy staking a claim back in the first gold rush. However, his nefarious partner, Dan Schneider betrayed and took the giant Victorious nugget, claiming it for his own.****

/

A tumbleweed skittered across the open, empty plain, sun sinking behind the distant hills, rimming the sky purple as night eased into its place. The quiet chirping of crickets started, a chatter amongst the tufts of weed that sprouted across the desolate land. The stamp of a horse hoof and the jingle of a bit silenced them, small dust clouds raised by the solitary rider as they crossed the darkening vista, shape silhouetted against the wide open sky.

The rider was slumped in the saddle, posture weary, shoulders hunched. Silver spurs glittered on their heels, the remaining light sparking off them. A rabbit trembled in the sparse grass, terrified into stillness by the passing strangers. The horse, a golden palomino with a mane as white as sea foam, plodded along the faint remains of the road seemingly without direction, ears twitching back to its rider on occasion.

As they travelled along the lonesome trail, a light suddenly appeared on the dark horizon, flickering and wavering like a spirit. Another was quick to follow, a warm yellow, and gradually a town emerged from the darkness, buildings painted with the last of the days light, lanterns flickering into life as their owners lit them.

The rider straightened a little, shoulders shrugging under the patterned brown poncho that covered them, roused by the appearance of the town ahead. A click of the tongue caused the horse to raise its head, steps quickened with a gentle nudge to the ribs.

Few witnessed the rider coming into town, most concerned with their supper, businesses already closed for the night, but those who did pulled closed their curtains, suspicious of the lone figure. The rider stopped outside the saloon, a raucous hum bursting onto the streets from inside the brightly lit establishment. The figure dismounted with ease, face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. They hitched the tired horse to the post, the equine snorting, tail swishing. A quiet word reassured the beast, a tanned hand stroking its neck.

The saloon fell quiet as the figure entered, swinging doors clattering loudly. A finger tipped the hat up, revealing a cautious face, smeared with dust. But even dirt couldn't disguise the distinctive features and high cheekbones of Kid Victorious.

A murmur ran through the patrons. "It's Kid Victorious!"

"I heard she killed a man just for sneezin' funny."

"I heard she killed a man by __sneezing__."

"The fastest hand in the West, she is!"

A smile turned up the corner of Kid Victorious' lips, spurs clicking as she strolled up to the bar. It'd been a long ride to the little town of Hollygulch, a place long forgotten by the rest of the world, but even here she was known. Although it was no surprise really, her sister was hardly one to keep her relation to a celebrity quiet. In fact, her sister was the whole reason she'd come to this little backwater.

She pulled the crumpled letter out, taking a seat at the bar and signalling the bartender for two fingers of whiskey. The dark-skinned bartender complied, pouring out the measure with a deft hand and sliding it her way. "On the house, Kid Victorious."

"Call me Tori." The Kid said distractedly, pouring the drink down her throat, eyes intent on the letter.

_Dear Sis,_

_I know we haven't really spoken since you burned down the farm and ran away all those years ago, but I wanted to let you that despite your attempts to sabotage me, I've finally made it big. I've got a regular show in Hollygulch if you want to come and gaze in awe, though I can't promise you'll get in. It's a high class place, and they don't really allow riffraff like you._

_Love, Trina._

Tori folded the letter up again, slipping it back into the pocket of her dusty jeans. "You know a girl named Trina?"

The bar tender laughed, his dark, tight braids of hair shaking with the movement. "It's hard not to know her. She makes pretty sure everyone does, if you catch my drift. I'm Andre, by the way. I run the bar and play the pianny, over there." He pointed to a somewhat rickety looking piano, situated next to an equally rickety looking stage.

"The... pianny?" Tori asked doubtfully. Where she came from, people usually added a vowel at the end of that word.

"Yeah, you know-" Andre mimed playing keys. "Pianny."

Tori nodded, an eyebrow raised.

"We got a fine show here every night. Hardly anyone throws bottles at the performers anymore." Andre beamed proudly, thumbs hooked in his red suspenders. A small clock behind the bar chimed weakly, causing the bartender to jump. "Matter of fact, it's time for our first show now." Andre slipped off his apron, exiting the bar.

"Hey, wait! What about my sis-"

"__Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, your favourite ventriloquist!___" _Andre announced in a loud voice, interrupting the Kid. Tori sighed, reaching out for the half-full bottle of whiskey near her and uncorking it. She had the feeling she was going to need it.

"He's our only ventriloquist, and we __still__hate him!" A voice heckled from the audience, laughter following.

"_Robbie Shapiro, and his wonder puppet, Rex!"_

Andre gestured grandly, seemingly oblivious to the groans from the audience. A slim, nervous looking boy came out, a red neckerchief tied inexpertly around his neck. He wore black-rimmed glasses, dark, curly hair spiralling from his head. He walked with all the grace of a wounded jackrabbit, and Tori wondered for a moment which was the puppet; this wooden-jointed boy, or the poorly hewn caricature in his arms.

He dragged a stool to the centre of the stage, free hand wiping sweat away from his brow. He cleared his throat, puppet perched on his knee. "So..." He began awkwardly, looking around at the uniformly hostile faces of the audience. "So Rex, you ever tried the whiskey here?"

The puppet's mouth flapped open, voice sarcastic. "Yeah, and it's stronger than you."

A few chuckles sounded from the audience, panic crossing the Shapiro boy's face. "Rex, I told you not to insult me in front of the audience."

"Then stop making it so easy."

"Rex, they're never going to buy me as a performer if-"

"They wouldn't buy you even if you were free."

Tori downed another shot of whiskey, feeling it burn all the way to her stomach. The puppet was right; this stuff probably was stronger than the gangly ventriloquist.

"Look, just stick to the jokes we had planned, and-"

"Those were jokes? I thought that was your suicide letter."

Robbie's lower lip trembled, face distraught. "Rex-"

"__Ladies and gentlemen, Robbie and Rex!___" _Interrupted Andre, laughing nervously. "Let's all give them a hand as they __exit the stage__." He threw a pointed glance to the defeated boy, the puppet chuckling as he left. A spattering of applause sounded, a lone bottle shattering on the stage, more for appearance than any real venom. "Who threw that?" Demanded Andre, eyes scanning the audience. "Come on. You know broken glass is a safety hazard. Was it you Hank?"

A lanky cowhand shrugged, foot kicking the floorboard. "No sir."

"Then where's ya bottle?"

The cowhand's mouth twisted. "On the stage." He admitted sheepishly.

"Alright Hank, that's it. Out you go. I've warned you before about this."

"I know."

"I hope you learned." Andre watched the downcast cowhand exit the saloon, shaking his head in disappointment.

Kid Victorious watched the whole thing with an air of disbelief. In all the saloons she'd been in, in all the many towns and cities, she'd never seen anything like this. Words like that usually led to a gunfight, or at least a fistfight. Maybe this is what a high class establishment did, although the place certainly didn't look too classy. As if on cue, a hand draped itself over her shoulder. Tori's hand instinctively went to her gun, fingers on the smooth pearl handle. "Hey sis!"

She relaxed, turning. "Trina? Is that yo-" Her brown eyes widened. If this was her sister, she'd certainly grown up in the two years Tori had been away from home. And grown out. Tori didn't remember her sister having such prominent assets jutting from her chest, but then her sister had always worn a shirt at home. She was wearing one now, there was just vastly less of it.

"You made it!" Crowed Trina, batting her heavily made up eyes, sea green eyeshadow liberally applied. Her lips were painted a garish red, like she was in the last stages of tuberculosis, and the deathly pallor painted on her face only added to the impression.

"I made it." Tori echoed, still taken aback by her sister's transformation.

"Ew you're all dirty." Trina wrinkled her nose, removing her arm from the girl.

"I rode four days, alone in the wilderness just to get here."

Trina waved a hand. "And there wasn't a stream anywhere, or-"

Tori's hand found the significantly emptier bottle of whiskey again. "No."

"Anyway, I'm so glad you're here! You should've come tomorrow though. My show's only once a week." Trina fluffed her teased brunette hair. "They don't want to exhaust the talent."

"Who- oh, __you__. Of course."

"Did you have a place to stay?"

"Actually, I just got he-"

"'Cause if you do, I'll need to stay there too. Been having a bit of trouble with the old landlord lately." Trina nudged Tori with a sharp elbow, chuckling. "For some reason he wants money now, instead of those 'favours' I do him."

"Oh... that's... that's unfortunate." Tori looked doubtfully at her sister once again.

Trina waved a hand. "I know, right? He gets a little teensy bit of syphilis, and suddenly it's my fault! I mean, hello, half the town has syphilis, why's he blaming me?"

Tori had faced down a man intent on killing her on more than one occasion, but she'd never had to deal with anything this terrifying before. She was starting to remember why she'd run away after the homestead had burnt to the ground. That and a lynch mob had been after her. She almost breathed a sigh of relief as Andre came back behind the bar, Robbie surreptitiously creeping back on stage to clean up the glass, seeming almost fascinated by it.

Trina's attention focussed on the bartender, Tori's shoulders relaxing from the reprieve. "Andre, did you get that champagne in?" She directed the next sentence to Tori, in the tone of someone teaching an important lesson to a child. "Ladies only drink champagne." She looked pointedly at the whiskey bottle still in Tori's grasp.

"That's exactly why we haven't got none in. We ain't got no ladies here. Excepting Ms. Valentine, of course."

Trina snorted. "That two dollar whore? She ain't fit to do back-up singing for me. She's no lady. What kind of name is that, anyway? 'Cat Valentine'. You know it's fake, right?"

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, but who's Cat Valentine?" All this bickering was making Tori's head spin. Or it could've been the copious amounts of whiskey she'd imbibed.

Andre puffed his chest out proudly. "Only the best damn act in the whole town." He nodded as a mosquito of a boy popped out from behind the faded curtain surrounding the stage and gave a thumbs up. "And I think she's ready. 'Scuse me." He exited the bar again, fingers flexing, as Robbie, having cleaned up the glass and disposed of it, came back onto the stage with a guitar, hands slightly bloodier than before.

Tori turned back to the bar, jumping as she saw the boy-mosquito cleaning a glass with a rag nonchalantly. "But how- when- you were just over there!" She pointed back to the stage. "How did you-"

"I have my ways, Kid Victorious. I'm the back-up barkeep, Sinjin." He peered down at her from behind tiny glasses perched on his thin nose, hair wild and frizzled. "Trina, may I add that you're looking lovely tonight."

Trina made a noise of disgust, turning away. "Look Tor, just be here tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, sure." Tori waved a hand dismissively. She could barely stand five minutes of her sister, she wasn't sure how she'd be able to endure a whole show.

"Bye Trina." Sinjin said in a loving voice, sighing as the girl left the bar. "She's an angel."

Tori shifted further up the bar, eyes narrowed at the odd boy before turning their attention the stage, Andre trilling a soft melody on the pianny. After a few moments of wincingly picking at the strings, Robbie joined the melody with his guitar. The Kid was confused. This was the kind of music for showhalls, not for rowdy saloons. This wasn't something you could slap your table to, or roar and howl along with. This was a gentle and wistful song, better suited for reminding people of why they're drinking in the first place. Tori's thoughts froze, however, when a smooth and clear voice rose from offstage, piercing and pure. The voice was followed by a girl, a short petite flower of a thing. Tori's gut whispered the name to her. __Cat Valentine__. But if this girl was a flower, she was a rose, hair the colour of fresh blood, something Tori'd seen spilt many times before. It'd never turned her stomach quite like this though. It was flip-flopping about like a pig in mud, and quickly rising to her heart.

The girl's voice was like a ray of sunshine converted into sound, soaring and sweeping throughout the simple melody, weaving into it in some places, breaking apart from it in others. Tori was transfixed, hand slipping away from the almost empty whiskey bottle to rest limply in her lap. Cat strolled across the stage, smiling sweetly at the audience, hips moving provocatively to a swell in the music. She had wide, innocent eyes, lips like a pink cupids bow, and an air of innocence The Kid was sure was deceptive, and was sorely tempted to try and prove that.

The song finished with an almost whispered promise, Cat winking at the audience with a grin, Tori gradually becoming aware of the world around her again. It was somehow prettier than before, even though a large part of it was composed of filthy, drunken cowboys.

One such cowboy stood up, swaying unsteadily. "Take yer clothes off." He hooted, gesturing vulgarly at the stage. "Go on, take yer-" He swallowed hard as he spotted the pearl handled gun pointed squarely at him, Tori waving the sixgun in a downward motion. The cowboy sat, fear in his eyes.

"Apologise to the nice lady." Tori cocked the hammer, smiling sweetly at the terrified and inebriated man.

His drooping mustache trembled, eyes bulging. "Sorry. I ought not to have said that. I'm real sorry Ms. Valentine, real sorry." He gulped, relaxing visibly as Tori drew her gun away from, giving it a slick spin back into its holster. She nodded at Cat, the girl responding with a smile and a blown kiss before waving at the rest of the audience and exiting the stage. She paused, almost out of sight, a look of surprise on her face. Tori narrowed her gaze. There was someone behind the curtain. Someone tall, with dark hair and a slim form. More than that she wasn't able to make out, as the pair disappeared from sight.

She put it out of her mind as Andre came back behind the bar, Sinjin sliding away from sight soundlessly. Andre shook his head. "Some people. Y'all are animals." He spat in disgust, spit hitting the glass he held. He proceeded to polish it vigorously with a rag, causing Tori to look questionably at her own shotglass. She shrugged; she'd been drinking straight from the bottle most of the night anyway.

"Where's the blacksmith around here?" She asked amiably, feeling the edges of exhaustion gnawing at her brain.

"You looking to store your ride?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Sikowitz is the only blacksmith in this town. Most of the time, you'd find him here, actually. If he's at the stables, he's either passed out or working his way towards it." Andre noticed Tori's look of apprehension. "Oh, but he'll take real good care of your horse. He's just down the road and to the right."

Tori tossed a few coins onto the bar, standing. "Thanks."

"Hope y'all enjoyed the show." Andre grinned. "Ain't often we get a star like you in town."

The Kid tugged down her hat as she exited. "Yeah, I'm a real star." She chuckled, unhitching her horse from the post.

"C'mon Pal, let's get you bedded down for the night." She led him down the deserted main street, silent but for the clip clop of the palomino's hooves, and the jingle of Kid Victorious' spurs. Tori yawned widely, stretching. "Figure I might head that way too, Pal." The horse whickered in response, Tori laughing. "You're a good friend, Pal. You know that?"

She found the stables by following the sound of snoring, finding the source emanating from a filthy man clothed in more attire than she'd seen in one of those fancy boutiques in the city. He even wore one of those Oriental scarves she'd seen slung around the necks of the railroad workers, a bright yellow and green patterned thing. The man's face was scruffy, hair everywhere but on the the top of his head.

Tori proceeded to give his foot a kick, the man almost falling off his wooden chair. "Wha-whosat?" He rubbed his eyes, blinking. "Oh, it's you. Who are you?"

"You Sikowitz?"

The man looked down at himself. "I think so." He checked a pocket before rummaging inside his coat. "There's a label here __somewhere__."

"Look, can I put my horse somewhere or not?"

"Sure, just find an empty stall. If it's still the same horse in the morning, you can pay me then."

"You don't really inspire confidence, you know that?"

Sikowitz snorted. "Of course not, my dear girl. Confidence comes from within!" He gestured theatrically, chair groaning under his enthusiastic movement.

Tori clicked her tongue, leading the horse into the darkened stables, the smell of hay and dung filling her lungs. A few horses knickered softly, shifting in their stalls as Tori and the palomino passed. She found an empty stall towards the back, walking the horse in. The hay was fresh and evenly distributed, better than Tori had expected, a trough of fresh water filled to the brim. She got the horse settled for the night, removing the sweat-dampened saddle and placing it in the corner of the stall, shrugging off her dust-coated poncho and folding it on top. Her grey vest was relatively clean underneath, slightly wrinkled and rumpled from the long ride. She left the palomino contentedly munching on feed, Tori's own stomach giving a pathetic rumble.

"Nice horse."

The Kid's hand instinctively reached for her gun, halting halfway as she saw who it was. The flower, the red rose that had bloomed onstage, leaned against the stable doorframe, crimson hair almost liquid under the warm, flickering light of the lanterns. She wore a simple blue dress, that was still cut daringly enough to reveal her collarbones, and the slightest hint of cleavage. "Ms. Valentine." Tori dipped her hat.

"What's her name?" Cat batted her long eyelashes coquettishly.

Tori licked her lips, glancing back at the happy palomino. "Pal O' Mine."

Cat giggled. "Because she's a palomino!"

Tori grinned in relief. Most of the time, people just offered blank stares in response. Once it'd actually caused a duel. People just didn't seem to appreciate puns these days. "Right?"

Cat's giggles faded, a smile still on her face. "I wanted to thank you. You know, for what you did in the saloon there. You were awful brave sticking up for me like that."

The Kid shrugged, cheeks heating up. "Wasn't nothin'. Seemed like the right thing to do."

"Still, it was mighty sweet of you. Did you like the show?"

"Ma'am, you've got the prettiest voice this side of the Mississippi." Tori said solemnly. She'd sometimes thought of being a singer, back when she lived on the farm. But that fire... that fire had changed everything.

Cat giggled again, taking a step closer. "Well ain't you just the sweetest thing I ever did meet." She reached out, fingertips stroked Tori's dirt-smudged cheek. "And just look at those cheekbones. A girl could fall in love with cheekbones like that."

Tori swallowed hard, palms sweating. "Ms. Valentine-"

"Cat."

"Cat, you're a mighty nice girl, and I reckon it's far too late for nice girls like you to be out on the street-" A shadow crossed Cat's eyes, hand slipping away from Tori's cheek. "So I offer my services as a gentlelady to escort you home." Tori nodded, finished with her speech, the smile blooming on Cat's face again.

"You're sweeter than candy, Kid Victorious." Cat leaned in close, planting a soft kiss on Tori's less-than-pristine cheek. "And I love candy." She whispered into Tori's ear before pulling away.

The Kid let out a long breath, heart beating a tattoo in her chest. "Call me Tori."

Cat grinned. "Well Tori, how about you take me home now?" She held out an arm, which Tori gladly took, the two leaving the blacksmith's and setting off down the street, Sikowitz's snoring drowning out the sound of their steps. The pair strolled into the night, houses dark around them.

"So Tori, I heard you have the fastest fingers in the West..."

/

****A/N: And so concludes the thrilling part 1 of 'Kid Victorious'!****

****Tune in next week for more thrilling and dangerous adventures featuring cowboys, Indians, evil cattle barons, gold rushes and more!****

****Will the daring Kid Victorious win the heart of the lady Cat?****

****Who WAS that mysterious figure behind the curtain?****

****WILL Trina's show cause a stampede, killing hundreds and depriving the country of beef and joy?****

****Some of this and less in Part 2: Sans Sheriff?****


	2. Sans Sheriff?

**Disclaimer: Victorious is not owned by me, but the West is owned by all. Except the Native Americans, who really got the pointy end of the stick on that one.**

/

The Kid woke up with a start, hand shooting to her hip instinctively. She relaxed as she took in her surroundings, sweat beading her tanned skin. She'd been caught in the grip of a nightmare, farmhouse blazing around her, her mother coughing and running towards her, smoke thick and acrid.

She was in a bed. That was strange. More often than not she'd woken up in ditches, or to a sharp kick in the ribs. Abandoned churches were pretty common too. It wasn't a cheap bed either. Tori hit the mattress with a fist, a small puff of feathers shooting out of a tear. Real feathers. The feathers drifted onto her bare arm, sticking to the slick skin. She turned onto her back, hands pillowed behind her head. This was one of her best awakenings yet. She was warm, she was comfortable, she was naked, she- The Kid's eyebrows dug down. That last part didn't seem right. She lifted the blanket, glancing down. Yup. Naked as a rattlesnake that's just shed it's skin.

"Mornin'." A sweet voice drifted towards her, the Kid's head turning to the doorway. Cat Valentine walked in, looking fresh as a daisy but not nearly so pure, a couple of metal mugs in her hands.

Of course, it was all coming back to Kid Victorious now. The soft kiss as they reached Cat's door last night. The harder kiss as they reached her bedroom. The shed clothing leading to the bed, the hot hands on her waist. The soft skin, the panting, the yielding curves and whimpers and deft, slim fingers twisting in her-

Yup. It was coming back to her, alright.

"Morning. You're a sight for sore eyes." Tori grinned, sitting up in the bed.

"Wasn't your eyes I thought'd be sore." Cat's coffee-coloured eyes sparkled sinfully, making the Kid aware that the blanket had slipped away from her. She let it stay where it was. Her skin held no secrets for Cat anymore. The red-headed girl handed the hot mug of steaming coffee to Tori, sitting down beside her. She was clad in a simple white shift, a few lacy frills the only thing adorning it.

Kid Victorious took a sip of the coffee gratefully, last cobwebs of sleep clearing from her mind. She sat the mug down on the worn bedside table, the strong bitter taste of caffeine coating her tongue. "Uh, you wouldn't be able to tell me where my clothes got to, would you?"

Cat smiled over her mug. "You're not wanting to leave me already, are you?"

"No Ma'am." Tori answered sincerely, hand finding her heart. "I just feel naked without my gun on."

"You are naked."

Tori chewed her lip. "Yeah, but you know... __more __naked. I reckon."

Cat gave a beauteous smile, breathy laughter escaping her. "I folded them on the chair for you." She gestured across the room, throwing a nervous glance at the dusty, folded clothes. Tori followed her gaze, eyebrow raising a fraction.

She stretched, feeling her tight and aching muscles loosen, feet swinging off the bed as she pushed herself to her feet. Cat watched the lean gunslinger cross the room, tanned skin riddled with pale scars. "You sure have had a lot of wounds." Cat said solemnly, lips drawn together, coffee lowered to her lap.

Tori shrugged, slipping her pants on. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

"Sure does seem like a lot of people have wanted to kill you." Cat threw another glance over to Tori, a slight wrinkle between her brows.

The Kid tugged her salmon coloured undershirt on, leaning over the cast iron bedend to drop a light kiss on the red-headed girl's lips. "But I've been stronger. They don't call me Kid Victorious for nothin'."

Cat smiled wistfully as Tori pulled back, thick lashes shading her eyes. "I hear you make it shine, wherever you go."

Tori's grin flickered, memory pulled back to that awful, awful day, when the only thing shining had been the flames, roaring ever higher. "Y'all could say that."

The Kid turned away, fastening her gunbelt around her before picking up her last item of clothing from the chair; the finely woven charcoal vest. She pulled it on, fingers catching on an unfamiliar object, pinned just above her heart. She frowned, fingers tracing over the cold, hard object. Why, it almost looked like a-

The door flew open with a crash, two cowboys clad in black jeans and black dusters bursting into the room. Their hands twitched at the sight of the Kid, starting to move to their hips, but Tori's pearl-handled sixgun was already trained on them, sight unwavering. Cat's mug clattered onto the floor, coffee spilling over the worn floorboards.

The cowboys' eyes widened, hands falling from their holsters, the one on the right tugging down his bandanna, revealing thick lips and a stubble-spattered face. He turned slightly towards the doorway, hands raising as Tori's barrel turned to him. "Ms. Valentine's in here, boss." His dark eyes scanned over The Kid. "And she ain't alone."

The soft click of heels sounded in the hall, followed by a heavier step. Tori chanced a look at Cat, the red-headed girl gnawing on her nails nervously. __"I'm so sorry, Tor." __She whispered, eyes wide and scared.

With a theatrical swirl of a duster, a figure entered the room, the two cowboys moving aside. Tori's eyes narrowed. The figure was dressed all in black, right down to the heels. Black jeans, a stiff-collared leather duster, and a wide-brimmed hat pulled down low. The figure parted the coat, revealing a scarlet corset, breasts almost spilling forth from it, barely held in check by the tight material. Her skin was pale, paler than anyone Tori'd ever seen, barring the occasional corpse that washed up from the river. But this creature was very much living, chest rising and falling under deep, steady breaths. Sharp-nailed fingers plucked the hat off, dark hair spilling down in loose curls, a tendril of colour weaved through one lock. She was followed by a taller figure, skin the same cappuccino as Tori's own. He was the only one not in a duster, instead wearing a short, tight-fitting black vest, white shirt underneath. He had a strong nose, dark eyes, and hands that were more suited for playing poker than for brawling.

"Well." The girl spoke in a strident voice, hands going to her hips, coat opening wider. Tori caught the distinctive flash of gunmetal, her grip tightening on her own worn gun. "Cat, I thought I told you to keep the dog outside." She smirked at The Kid, her tones calm and measured. The voice of someone educated, who grew up in money. In Tori's experience, those were the slipperiest eels to deal with. Money'd get you out of almost anything. She'd seen it happen in town after town, and more often than not, she'd been on the bad side of money. She'd had hired goons sent after her on more than one occasion.

Tori thumbed the hammer on her sixgun, lip curling.

The smirk on the dark-haired girl's face only grew, her sculpted eyebrows raising as she caught a glint on The Kid's chest. "_Oh_, but this dog has a badge."

"Who are you?"

"And you've taught it to speak too! Aren't you clever, kitten." Her tone was condescending, heels clicking as she crossed to the cringing Cat. A pale hand stroked Cat's delicate cheek, sharp nail drawing her chin up. "I thought I made it clear that you're my pet, though."

"Hey! I asked you a question."

The girl's hand dropped from Cat's face. "So you did. But does it really matter? The important thing here is who you are, and it looks to me like you're the new Sheriff."

Tori frowned, glancing down at the glinting object on her chest. It __was __a star, and a none-too-pristine one at that, metal bent and nicked. "I don't remember..." She looked back up at the two girls, Cat avoiding her gaze.

The corseted girl saw the exchange, clapping her hands together. "Oh, Cat, you didn't! You tricked her, didn't you? Batted those big brown eyes and then stuck her when she wasn't looking."

Cat shook her head desperately. "I didn't-"

"Oh, but you did. You stink of her. Just like wet dog." The dark-haired girl wrinkled her nose. "Don't forget, Cat. You're mine, for as long as I want you. And I still want you."

A muscle in Cat's cheek tightened, the girl remaining silent, eyes downcast.

"And you, the puppet with a pistol-" The corseted girl turned to Tori, eyes running over her. "You better hope that badge comes off. The Sheriffs around here have a nasty habit of getting shot." She whirled on her heel, striding out of the room. The tall, vested boy dipped his bowler hat, motions stiff and somewhat apologetic. __"Beck! Come on!" __He turned, following the dark-haired girl out, the two cowboys trailing after.

The Kid relaxed as she heard the door slam, the beating of horse hooves sounding not long after. She slipped the pearl-handled gun back into its holster, taking the opportunity to better examine the piece of tin stuck to her vest. "Cat-"

"I can explain, please Tori, please let me explain-"

"Cat, I-"

"Tori, why won't you let me explain? Y'all ain't bein' fair!"

"Go. Explain. 'Cause right now, ain't much making sense to me."

"Tori, please just- oh." Cat looked stunned, as if she'd half expected Kid Victorious to storm out, gun waving. "Well, the town ain't had a Sheriff since Jade shot the last one, and-"

"Jade's the scary one there?"

Cat nodded, a hand twisting a lock of her ruby hair anxiously. "Mhm. So anyways, after Sheriff Lane was shot, there wasn't really anyone 'round here who wanted to take up the position, seein' as Lane was our fourth Sheriff this month."

"Understandable."

"And then when you walked into the saloon... you just looked so tough, Tor. Once I found out who you were, I knew you were perfect for-"

"Wait. You didn't know who I was?"

Cat's mouth twisted. "Well no, not at first."

"Who told you?"

"I can't rightly recollect." Cat's eyes skittered over the ceiling, a solemn look settling on Tori's face. The girl was lying, but why? Had it been the dark figure she'd glimpsed in the curtains last night who'd told Cat who she was? And if so, why?

"So you figured you'd get me into your bed, stick this piece of junk on my chest, and suddenly I'd be Sheriff?"

Cat shook her head, eyes wide. "No! That's not it at all!" Her hands linked in her lap. "Well, that's a little bit it. But it ain't why I kissed you last night!"

"Then why did you?" Tori crossed her arms, face hard.

"I knew, even without knowin' you were Kid Victorious, that you were the bravest, strongest, and kindest girl I ever did see. I knew that you were the only one who could save us - who could save __me__, from The Scissorer."

"The Scissorer?" Tori's tongue stumbled over the word, it's tendency to roll _r_'s proving her downfall.

"Jade." Cat said the name softly, a tear rolling down her cheek. "She treats me like I'm a toy, and she's rough with her toys, Tor. I'm a-scared I'm gonna break." She stood, Tori's arms uncrossing as Cat pressed against her, hot tears scalding her neck. "Please Tori. Please help us. Please help _me_. I don't wanna break. I don't want her to play with me no more."

"I didn't come here to play the hero, Cat. I came here to see my sister and her show, and that's all. I ain't no Sheriff. I've broke the law more times than I've upheld it. And sure, you're mighty pretty, and you're mighty sweet, but I can't-" Tori's arms gingerly embraced the crying girl, heart stuttering in her chest. "I can't just- I can't be a hero for you, Cat. I ain't no star, and I shouldn't be wearing one." If Cat only knew the things The Kid had done, the evils she'd spread. Tori'd spent her entire life making up for them, and she was nowhere near close. A badge on her was about as much use as a hat on a jackrabbit, and just as foolish.

"I think you're a hero, Tor." Cat sniffled. She swiped at her eyes, looking up at the frowning gunslinger.

"You don't know what I done, Cat."

"You're right, I don't. And I don't much care for the past, Tori." Cat's fingertips traced the smooth skin revealed by Tori's open collar. "We've all done things we'd rather forget. Doesn't matter what we've done, it matters what we __do__. Whatever you've done, it ain't no reason to not do good now. I know you're good, Tor, you just don't think you are. I can see it in your smile. I can feel it when you kiss me. Your hands-" Cat took the callused hands of the gunslinger. "Your hands touch me so gentlelike, like you're a-scared you're gonna break me. Ain't nobody ever touched me like that before, Tori. Nobody." She brought The Kid's hand to her face, cheek rubbing against Tori's palm.

Kid Victorious let out a heavy sigh, lips pressing against Cat's forehead. "I 'spose I ain't got much of a choice, have I? You'd talk the venom out of a snake, you would."

"So you'll stay? You'll be the Sheriff?" Cat bounced excitedly in Tori's arms, tears drying on her cheeks.

"If'n I don't get shot first." Tori said grimly. She was now fairly sure that some of the dents and scratches on the badge were the result of shrapnel, but The Kid was no stranger to shards of metal. She still had a few pieces of buckshot embedded in her shoulder from the last town she'd tried to help. They'd renamed that place __Bloodbath Canyon __after she'd left, but really, who builds a mine that rickety anyway? It was poor workmanship that killed all those miners, not her. How was she supposed to know that was a support beam?

Cat met The Kid in a soft, happy kiss, the taste of salt on her lips. "Thank you, Tor. __Thank you__."

If Jade was the biggest problem this town had, Tori figured she'd have no problem fixing her wagon. She'd dealt with entitled types before. They were all cash and no substance. They were just the lightning without the thunder. All she'd have to do would be to flash her gun a little, maybe shoot a couple of Jade's goons, and she'd turn tail and run back to Daddy. Those rich types always did. Even if she had her reservations about being on the right side of the law, at least it meant she wouldn't be running from it for once. Maybe this would be the thing to redeem her, to remove the shadow that had stained her soul for so long. This'd go way better than Bloodbath Canyon. It had to.

Besides, this place didn't even have a mine.

/

**A/N: And so concludes another daring chapter of The Good, The Bad, And The Still Moderately Attractive.**

**Thanks for tuning in to Part 2: Sans Sheriff?**

**Will Kid Victorious be able to run off the villain Jade?**

**Will she be able to uphold the virtues the office of Sheriff represents, or will she bow under the pressure and indecently expose herself to a dog while under the influence of whiskey?**

**Will Andre ever use the 'o' in piano?**

**Find out in Part 3: The Scissorer**


	3. The Scissorer: Part 1

**Disclaimer: Neither Victorious or the old West belong to me. But really, they're a part of us all.**

**/**

"Gimme a drink."

Kid Victorious sat down heavily at the bar, running a hand through her messy brunette hair. Wasn't even noon yet, and she was exhausted.

Andre put down the glass he was wiping, pouring a neat shot and sliding it down the bar to the thirsty Kid. "Looks like Ms. Cat stuck you good." He chuckled, slinging his sodden dishrag over his shoulder.

Tori frowned, downing the shot quickly, the fiery liquid burning all the way down to her belly. Cat had sure stuck it to her good last night, that was for sure, but how did he know? Did the whole town know? Were they really that lou- Tori's eyes widened. "The star? You mean this thing?" She said quickly, flicking a finger over the tin badge.

Andre tilted his head, eyebrows drawing down. "Sure, what else would I mean?"

The Kid licked her lips, fingers flexing on the bar. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all. Can I get another drink here?"

"Sure thing, Sheriff." Andre grinned to himself, sliding another shot down the bar. "Want me to leave the bottle?"

Tori shook her head, grimacing at the taste of the cheap whiskey. "Figure my first arrest shouldn't be me."

"Arrest?" A voice boomed across the saloon, followed by a series of unsteady footsteps. Sikowitz slung himself over the bar, holding up two fingers to Andre. "My dear girl, you have to be Sheriff to arrest someone!"

"You're looking at the Sheriff."

Sikowitz furrowed his eyebrows, leaning over to peer intently at the star on Tori's chest. "Is that so? How long has that been there? I could've _sworn_ Lane was the Sheriff."

"He's dead." Interjected Andre, slamming a shot down on the bar for Sikowitz.

"Oh." Sikowitz nodded, picking the shot up with his thumb and forefinger. "That would explain it then." He sipped the shot like a fine wine, sighing after every taste. "Andre, my good fellow, I think I'll take my breakfast outside today."

"For the last time, we don't serve food."

"I'll be outside!" Sikowitz announced, seemingly oblivious to what Andre said. He stood, staggering past the tables and chairs that dotted the saloon, almost falling through the swinging doors outside.

The Kid turned her attention back to Andre as the doors stopped flapping, silence settling over the bar once again. "Say, do you know anything about 'The Scissorer'?"

Andre looked up quickly, tight braids shaking from the movement. "Sure wish I didn't. Whatchu wanna know about her for?"

"Her and a couple of thugs paid me a visit this morning." Tori toyed with her empty shot glass, rolling back and forth.

"But I done seen Jade go to Ms. Cat's this morning..." Andre frowned, understanding suddenly blooming across his face. "Unless... you was there?"

The Kid chewed her lip before nodding tersely.

"Heh. When Cat told me she was planning to stick ya, I didn't think she meant it so literally." Andre chuckled to himself, head shaking. His face grew serious abruptly. "Oh. Jade wouldn't have liked that none. How're you still in one piece?"

Tori scoffed. "Please. It'd take more'n some rich girl flush with her daddy's money to shake me to pieces."

Andre's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "Heck, Jade ain't no daddy's girl. Legend has it her daddy kicked her out 'cause she done told him she wanted to be on the stage. Gave her two dollars and a gun, and sent her on her way."

"Then why's she here? Why ain't she up there with Cat, beltin' out tunes?"

Andre shrugged. "I don't rightly know. Some say she yelled so hard at a cowhand for steppin' on her foot that she done damaged her voice for good. Others say she gets awful stagefright, just freezes up and can't sing a note. Personally, I reckon she tried it, and realised she weren't no good, and that done poisoned her heart against everyone. All I know for sure is that if you mention her daddy to her, you better have your grave already dug."

"I heard she damaged her voice in a fire." Cat slung an arm over Tori's shoulders, leaning against the slim gunslinger. "Breathed in too much smoke." Cat batted her eyelashes, smiling sweetly.

Tori's eyes widened, shoulders straightening. "A fire?"

"She ain't never said anything about it to me, though." She dropped a kiss on the brunette's cheek. "Don't worry, Tor, only half of what you hear about her is true."

"I ain't heard nothing good yet."

"Then that's the true half." Cat beamed, before turning her attention to Andre, bouncing on her toes. "Did it come?"

Andre grinned, nodding. "Yes ma'am. And you're gonna love it."

Cat gasped, petite hand flying to her mouth. "Does it look like the pictures?"

"Even better."

Cat squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "You got to come to my show tonight Tor, you just got to."

"Wouldn't miss it for all the gold in the Yukon." The brunette winked, before standing with a sigh. "I'd love to stay and chew the fat with y'all, but I 'spose I got duties to attend to now." She tugged at the star on her chest with a grimace.

"You're gonna do great." Cat hugged the Kid tightly, leaning up to whisper in her ear. "Just don't die, 'kay?"

Tori nodded tersely, returning the hug somewhat awkwardly, Andre grinning at her. She wiped her palms over her grey vest as Cat let her go, nodding again. "So uh... what do I actually do? I mean, I know I got duties, but... what are they?"

"Your deputy'll fill you in." Andre jammed two fingers in his mouth, a shrill whistle sounding.

Tori twisted a finger in her ear, a slight ringing in them. "I got a deputy? Why ain't he Sheriff 'stead of me?"

"'Cause a hot day'd knock him out. He ain't no more bother to the Scissorer than a gnat. A dead gnat."

"It's true y'know. I _am_ pretty useless." The slim, curly-haired boy from last night emerged from behind the curtain surrounding the stage, clambering off the raised platform unsteadily. He wore a white shirt spattered with ink stains, thin black suspenders holding his pants up, a cheap yellow bowtie circling his throat, bobbing slightly as he talked. "Mostly I do paperwork. Filing. That sort of thing. I was _made_ for light clerical work." He beamed proudly, chest puffed out.

"Right... you're the one everyone hated, aren'tcha? The one with the puppet?"

The boy's shoulders crumpled, breath whooshing from his lungs. "Yeah. That's me."

"Robbie here's a city boy." Teased Andre, pouring out a tall glass of white liquid for the lanky boy and setting it on the bar.

"You're drinkin' milk?" Tori asked, quizzical.

Robbie took a long sip, a rim of white left behind above his upper lip as he set the glass down. "I have weak bones." He explained, swiping a hand across his mouth.

"Great. A deputy with weak bones. I feel safer already."

"Hey, you just wait 'till you see my penmanship. Come on, I'll show you the office." Robbie gestured to the Kid to follow him, Tori pushing herself off the bar resignedly as Cat waved an enthusiastic goodbye.

Tori's spurs jangled as walked along the dusty main street, boots sending up small puffs of dust. "Y'all know Jade?" She drawled out the side of her mouth, Robbie treading the worn boards that ran along the shopfronts beside her.

"Know her? I was there when she killed Lane. Heck, she was gonna kill me too, but then she said it'd be crueler to let me live."

"What's her deal?"

Robbie stopped in his tracks, eyebrows jumping up. "Her deal?" His voice was incredulous. "Her deal is destroying people lives."

"I mean, what does she do?"

Robbie waved a hand. "Oh. She's a cattle baron." He frowned. "Baroness? Anyway, she rustles a few cattle to start. Then she usually follows up with some threats, a little bit of arson. Maybe kills some ranchhands. Most folks usually leave by that point."

Tori licked her lips. "And if they don't?"

Robbie scratched his head, shrugging. "You know, I'm not really sure. It only happened once, before I got here. Whenever you mention it, folk just cross themselves and say _'el diablo'_ a lot. Must've been pretty bad. That's where the Scissorer built her ranch, right on top of the ruins."

The Kid nodded, chewing her lip before asking the next question. "And uh... what's her uh... what about her and Ms. Cat?"

"Cat's the only one I've seen the Scissorer be nice to. But not the good kind of nice, the kind that's scary." Robbie shivered before continuing. "Back when Cat worked in the whorehouse, Jade-"

"She what?" Tori turned quickly to Robbie, a cloud of dust rising from where her feet twisted.

Robbie nodded. "Yeah, back when Cat worked in the whorehouse, Jade used to bring her boys in to... you know, blow off some steam. Well, I guess Jade and Cat got to talking, and then they got to doing other things, and it wasn't long before Cat stopped working there. Jade set her up in that little place, and told her she wasn't ever to sell herself like that again. Way I see it, Cat's still a whore, just Jade's her only john, and she doesn't pay in money."

A muscle twitched under Tori's eye, hand resting on her gun.

Robbie swallowed hard, backpedaling. "N-not that... I didn't mean anything by calling Cat a whore, it's just... it's the proper name. I didn't mean- there's nothing wrong with- it just- I'm sorry?"

"It's fine. It's what she was, right?" The Kid forced a smile.

"R-right." Robbie laughed nervously, tugging at his suspenders. "Oh, look... we're here!" He opened the door to the Sheriff's office, wood riddled with bullet holes. "You've gotta look out for splinters."

It was a small room, two heavy wooden desks permanently in place on the floor. Tori wouldn't have been surprised if they'd just built the office around where the desks had been assembled. It probably would've been easier. A small block of four cells lay behind the desks, a threadbare cot in each.

Tori slung herself into a chair, kicking her feet up onto a desk. So Cat was a whore. Well, had been. Part of the Kid wondered if she'd just been another john, but instead of paying Cat, here she was paying her debt to society instead. Had Cat seduced her just so she'd get Jade out of the way? Not that Cat had had to try particularly hard. A warm bed and an even warmer body was a comfort the Kid rarely experienced. It wasn't often she was in a place long enough to make friends, let alone anything more. Sure, she was feared, she was renowned. She even had a handful of groveling fans in a few big cities, but all they wanted was her reputation, and not the real her. They wanted the lightning fast killer. Walking into a town where everybody knows your name wasn't all it was cracked up to be. It meant she could never escape who she was. She could never escape the things she'd done, both good and bad.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. She was Sheriff now, and that's the only thing she was. If she was stuck with this gig, she might as well do it right. Whether Cat had used her or not, the Kid had still sworn to protect her, and Kid Victorious never went back on her word. Except for that one she'd made about never starting fires.

"So... what'd the old Sheriff do?" Tori asked, folding her hands behind her head.

"Drink, mostly." Robbie lowered himself to the other desk. "His hands started shaking real bad at the end there, so sometimes I'd tie the bottle to his hand. Oh, but he did arrest Sikowitz every now and then. Mostly for being drunk and disorderly." Robbie frowned, scratching his chin. "Although we did have to drag him in once for performing unnatural acts with a horse."

Tori's feet hit the ground with a thud. "We're headin' to the stables. Now."

**/**

**A/N: And so concludes the slightly-less-than-thrilling-and-actually-quite-mundane part 1 of **_**The Scissorer**_**.**

**The Kid's adjusting to her new vocation, but will she be able to keep her cool when she's put to the test?**

**Will Pal O' Mine require intensive horse whispering?**

**Will Robbie ever do his fly up?**

**Find out at least one of these things in **_**The Scissorer: Part 2!**_


	4. The Scissorer: Part 2

**Disclaimer: Victorious is not owned by me, but if ever I should travel back to the Old West, you can be sure I'll create it before dying of cholera.**

/

The Kid breathed a sigh of relief as she entered the stables, Pal O' Mine whickering at the sight of her, tail flicking. Sikowitz was nowhere to be seen, fortunately, but Pal O' Mine had fresh hay and cool water, which frankly was better than what most flophouses provided.

"Hang back, Deputy." Tori commanded Robbie, the slim boy looking suspiciously at a rather large black horse in the neighbouring stall. She slipped into the compartment, running a hand along the palomino's hindquarters, the horse snorting softly. She glanced back to where Robbie was, the deputy scowling at the interested stallion nibbling his shirt sleeve. Good. He couldn't hear her. "Are you okay? Was your hay good?" The horse stared at her, nose soft velvet under Tori's hand. "I'll see if'n I can get you some sugar. You'd like that, huh?" The horse continued to stare. "Oh Pal, I swear you understand me better'n anyone." Tori pressed her forehead to the palomino's cheek, letting out a low breath. "We're gonna be here for a while, I reckon. See, I kinda met someone, Pal. Y'all saw her yesterday. Well... I won't go into the whole thing, but she kinda stuck me with bein' Sheriff." The equine snorted. "I know, I know, law 'n order ain't really our thing, but I figure if it keeps us fed, can't be that bad, right?" The Kid stroked the horse's thick, muscled neck, sighing. The palomino was her only constant companion through her travels. Sure, she'd had the occasional sidekick who got kidnapped a lot, even tied to train tracks sometimes, but they'd all left. Or gotten killed. Pal O' Mine had been with her since she'd left home; she'd ridden out of town pressed against the horse's broad back, fingers twisted in the pale mane. Throughout everything, Pal had never judged her, never thrown stones or even the occasional bullet at her, never once told her she was wrong. All the horse wanted from her was love, and the occasional piece of fresh produce, and that was more than Tori could say for anyone else she'd ever known. That horse was kin, even more than Trina was.

"You know, Pal, I think our luck might just be chang-" The Kid stiffened against the horse, nostrils flaring. Underneath the sweet smell of hay and the rather more pungent smell of horse manure, was a familiar odour. Smoke. Pal shifted uneasily against her, pushing her back. Kid Victorious ran from the stall, looking for the telltale fingers of smoke stealing their way underneath a door. Sure enough, a few wisps rose from the back of the building. Tori pressed her fingers against the closed door, wood hot under her touch. She took a deep breath, stepping back. A swift kick, and the door flew open, a thick pillar of smoke rushing out. Bright flames licked the store of hay inside, crackling and roaring. The fire was spreading fast, fuelled by the dry hay. A glass lantern hanging inside the storeroom cracked, glass showering the floor.

Tori recoiled back, face flushed with the heat, smoke starting to clog her lungs. But the smoke wasn't just coming from the storeroom. A few tendrils rose from the right corner of the building, matched by a heavier cloud billowing from the tackroom that lay to the left. This was no ordinary fire. This was arson!

By now the horses were rearing in their stalls, eyes rolling in their heads, whites showing. Robbie was looking at her with panic, glancing about for an escape route despite the large open doors behind him. "Get as many horses out as you can, Deputy!" Ordered The Kid, rushing to Pal's stall and unlatching the gate.

"But I'm allergic to horses!"

Tori paused, stabbing a finger in the boy's narrow chest. "Robbie, so help me God, if you don't help these horses, you won't have to worry about the damn fire, 'cause I'll kill you myself. Got it?"

Robbie's adam's apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed. "Got it." He fumbled with the catch to the black stallion's stall, glancing back over his shoulder at the hot tongues of flame that now licked the doorframe of the storeroom.

Kid Victorious whispered a quick word of comfort to the plunging palomino, slipping a halter over the anxious horse's head. She had to save Pal, above all else. The horse was kin. She yanked on the lead rope, bullying the panicking horse out of the stall. She led the terrified beast into the yard, a crowd of townspeople gathering. Tori picked one out, thrusting the rope into the gawker's hands. "Take care of this here horse for me, or I'll have you hanged or somethin'." The wide-eyed onlooker nodded, drawing the rope close to them.

Tori's feet pounded the ground as she raced back into the stables, Robbie passing her with the wild-eyed black stallion. Tori's fingers fumbled on the catches to the other stalls, her numb tongue clicking at the horses inside. She could hear the fire licking at the wooden boards of the stable, the smell of smoke thick in the air, a grey haze. Memories flickered in her head, fast and fleeting. The fire that had burned her home to the ground. The fire that had killed her mother. The fire that had scorched her fingers and left faint red scars across them, marks that ached now. The fire that had destroyed her life, made her into an outlaw. She was reduced to that helpless child, fear gripping her heart, freezing her feet, even as the few horses left in the stables screamed around her, blind in their panic. A heavy beam crashed to the ground, the structure groaning. The heat was burning the Kid's cheeks, the gun at her hip growing hot, the thick smoke making it almost impossible to breathe.

"Tori!" Robbie's voice cried out hoarsely. "Tori!" Louder now. He pushed roughly at her shoulder, suddenly in front of her. "We gotta get out of here! There's nothing else we can do, okay?"

Tori's lower lip shook, a tear leaving a clean trail through the smoke and dust smearing her cheek.

"Snap out of it!" Robbie shook her shoulders, wincing as a beam collapsed near them, sending up a shower of sparks.

The Kid's distant gaze locked onto the slim boy, a streak of charcoal blackening his cheek. "R-right. We gotta go." She nodded, swiping a hand across her face. "There's nothin'... nothin' we can do." Her fingers stuttered over the battered star pinned to her chest, curling around it for a moment.

She followed the Deputy out into the yard, a few townsfolk attempting to calm the horses that had escaped. Even here, the heat was almost unbearable, the air clogging. A few more minutes inside that stable...

Tori shuddered. Maybe Robbie wasn't such a useless Deputy after all. A few cobwebs of memory still clung in her mind, The Kid shaking her head to free them. She was the Sheriff. She had to be strong, she had to show no fear. She had to find out who did this. "Robbie, I want you to ask these folk if they saw anything. I got a hunch I wanta follow."

Robbie coughed weakly, nodding, as the Kid pushed past him, to the wide-eyed farmer that held Pal O' Mine. "Thanks for your help. Y'all get one free crime for that." She swung herself up onto the sweating horse, a task made difficult by the lack of a saddle. No matter. She'd ridden bareback before. She nudged the palomino's sides, the crowd parting before her. Arson. It was a crime she'd heard all about this morning. A crime commonly committed by a villain who had more than enough reasons to want to kill her.

Kid Victorious kicked the horse into a canter, racing for the outskirts of town. The sun was still high in the sky, and the town lay flat. Anyone leaving town should still be visible for miles, and Pal was a faster horse than most, even wound up from the fire as she was. The main streets of the town were mercifully empty, most of them clustered at the stables, a solemn bell tolling throughout the town. Tori doubted there was much that could be done to save the stables now. The wood in that building was drier than buffalo dung in the desert, and just as flammable. She wondered for a moment if Sikowitz had been sleeping somewhere inside the building. She hoped for his sake he wasn't. He was that soaked in alcohol he'd have gone up in an instant. The Kid shuddered at the thought.

Kid Victorious pulled the shivering horse to a halt, sweat foaming the palomino's golden sides. There, almost a speck on the horizon, were two riders, a cloud of dust raised behind them. They followed the road up a softly rolling hill, a tall and terrible house on the peak of it, stark even against the sparse land. Exactly where Robbie had said it would be. The West mansion, and no doubt that was two of her lackeys racing back to tell her about their success in taking care of that pesky Sheriff.

The Kid's fingers twisted in Pal's mane, her teeth gritted tight. She wanted nothing more than to follow them, to gun them down where they stood and watch their blood run red into the dust. But there was an aching pain in her arm, where a long pink weal crossed her wrist, and her lungs still burned from their recent scorching. Pal was certainly in no shape to go after them either, muscles twitching under her golden hide.

Tori clicked her tongue, urging the tired horse into a walk, turning back into town. Jade would get what was coming to her, and all her little lackeys too. The Scissorer wasn't the only one with a reputation around here, and The Kid meant to make sure hers wasn't forgotten. There'd be time enough for revenge, although the badge pinned to her vest meant she'd have to call it 'justice' instead. Maybe Robbie had turned up something useful in his questioning, and no doubt he'd have injuries that needed seeing to as well. He'd proved himself loyal, at least. It would've been easy for him to just let The Kid burn, he wouldn't have had to do a thing. And Tori got the feeling he was well accustomed to standing by and doing nothing. She'd repay him for saving her life, even if she'd never acknowledge that he did. A Vega always repaid her debts, with the exception of Trina, who repaid none of them.

She jumped down from Pal outside the saloon, allowing the exhausted equine to drink from a water trough there. The ominous bell still tolled loudly throughout the town. Tori suspected it came from the church, thought she wasn't quite sure where it was located. She hadn't much use for church anymore, and she hadn't the time for confession. Her list was too long and too bloody to be forgiven, and she aimed to add Jade's name onto the very bottom of it.

"How's your first day of bein' Sheriff goin'?" Andre leaned against the doorframe outside the saloon, wiping his hands on his apron.

"'Bout as well as I thought it would." The Kid attempted a smile, a harsh cough breaking it.

Andre grimaced. "You ain't soundin' too good there, Sheriff. You want to come in for a drink? On the house. Might be as we can see to that burn, too. Cat's got mighty gentle hands."

Tori hitched her thirsty horse to a nearby rail, trudging wearily onto the boardwalk that lay outside the saloon. "Oh, I know exactly what Cat's hands can do, if'n you follow my drift." She forced another grin, clapping Andre on the shoulder. "Say, do y'all reckon you could send someone to scoop up my Deputy? I figure I owe him a drink after all this."

"Well I wouldn't be sendin' 'em far. Your Deputy's already inside, drowning his troubles in a tall glass of milk."

The Kid gave a dry chuckle, pushing open the swinging doors to the saloon. "I shoulda guessed it."

/

**A/N: And so concludes The Scissorer: Part Two!**

**Will Tori ever get to interrogate the fire, and find out _why_ it was working for Jade?**

**Will she get her burn soothed, or will Cat's hands heal an altogether different part?**

**Will Trina still get to perform, despite the town already suffering enough tragedy for one day?**

**Find out in the thrilling next installment; Poker? I Barely Know Her.**


End file.
